


Imperative Sentences

by jbtriplenine



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: F/F, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 17:25:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5099102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbtriplenine/pseuds/jbtriplenine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michaela waits for Laurel in the basement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“What’s wrong? Is it Connor’s day drinking? Because yeah, I agree it’s totally a problem. But more like an Oliver-sized problem,” Laurel says as soon as she descends the stairs to the basement.

“No.” Michaela replies standing up from a flipped over milk crate serving as her makeshift seat. She was obviously nervous. Fidgeting with the rings on her fingers, with the wrinkles in her skirt. “No,” she whispers again.

Laurel notices the nervousness. She catches the quieting of her voice. So she waits. She’s learned in these past few months that forcing Michaela Pratt to do anything, to say anything is never a good idea. So she won’t. She’ll wait. Patience was a virtue and after a year of practical moral bankruptcy, she could use a little virtue.

Luckily, she doesn’t have to wait too long. Because in a blink of an eye, actually faster than that, Michaela has her pressed against the dirty basement wall. Chest to chest. Her eyes involuntarily shut. Her mouth dries. Air escapes her lungs in huffs.

“Did you mean it?” Michaela questions. Her delicate hands shakily stroking Laurel’s blush covered cheek.

Laurel _thinks_ this must be a kind of psychological manipulation exercise for Michaela. This position. Her body. Her body in this position. It has to be a shakedown of some sort. Maybe she thinks Laurel knows more about the Asher snitching crisis. Maybe she …

Her train of thought is interrupted, when Michaela removes the hand that had been slowly driving her insane with its cruel caresses. Then she begins speaking and Laurel’s eyes flicker open, focusing on how pink her moving lips look, how soft they might feel.

“I’m sorry. What?” Laurel manages.

“Did you mean it? What you said earlier. If you didn’t then I’m highly inclined to continue referring to you as Lauren and other similar sounding L names until graduation. So say that you meant it.” Michaela utters all of this in a rush and with no bite. And Laurel hopes that whatever she did, whatever she said, that she did mean it when it happened. She doesn’t want to lie. But God she will.

“Did I…did I mean what?” Laurel struggles with the words. Michaela’s closeness has her struggling with everything.

When Michaela responds, she is staring down at her hands as if they were the most fascinating pair on the planet. Laurel can get behind that ideology. “What you said earlier…about me being yours…not in a general sense of course, because we were specifically speaking in case of an orgy. Which, will not happen for…well very obvious reasons that…”

Laurel lifts the other woman’s chin. She wants to look into her eyes. She wants to see her beautiful irises that churn like ribbons of dark chocolate. “Michaela. Calm down. I meant it. I promise. Is that…is that why you have me up against the wall?”

Michaela smiles. It’s one that Laurel hasn’t seen before. It’s rare. It’s special. It’s just for her.

“I have you against the wall because if you did mean it, I wanted to…” Michaela trails off. She’s nervous again about whatever it is that she needs to say. This time Laurel refuses to wait. Fuck virtues.

“You wanted to?”

“I wanted to see what you would like to do about it.” She fixes Laurel with a lethally sexy stare from underneath mile-long lashes.   

“I…um…well what would you like me to do about it?” Laurel stammers out still recovering from that look. She knows what she would _like_ to do about it, but this isn’t about her. Not really.

“Kiss me!”

Laurel grins briefly but broadly. Then she is sliding her fingers through thick dark locks until they find a home on the nape of Michaela’s neck. The pad of her thumb traces those pinks lips, dipping into the pillowy softness. “Don’t tell me what to do,” she says in a whisper.

“Don’t tell me what to tell you,” Michaela husks. Never missing a beat.

“I guess I can tolerate your bossy behavior. For now.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I really do want to kiss you,” Laurel says as she leans in. An inch between them but she doesn’t close the space. She lives in it. “Say my name.”

“Lauren.”

“That’s not…” She can’t finish the sentence.

Michaela pulls her down until her lips are crushing Laurel’s. Then everything kind of perfect. Because then everything is Michaela. Her sinfully soft lips. Her intoxicating perfume. Her smooth faultless skin.

Teeth clink together. Tongues meet to twist and tangle. They teeter so closely to heaven. So many times she’s been angry that Michaela thinks she has the right to demand, to boss about. So many times she’s wished that the girl would behave differently. But in this moment, with her hand sliding dangerously low and Michaela not mounting a protest, she is thankful that some wonderful person taught her to speak in imperative sentences.


	2. The List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation where Michaela discovers a list written by Laurel.

After searching all over campus, Michaela finally finds her. She’s at the house. Dangling off of one of the armchairs. Her head is down, concentrating on the file in her hand. She doesn’t realize she’s no longer alone.

Until Michaela, in the overly dramatic fashion which she’s perfected over the years, chucks a notepad into Laurel’s general direction.

“What the hell is this?” Michaela demands in an accusatory tone.

Laurel still adjusting to the hurricane of flawlessness that is Michaela, struggles to find her bearings. “Ow. Why are you throwing things at me Michaela?”

Not really appreciating Laurel’s tone or her actual words, Michaels flings a throw pillow that Laurel is unfortunately able to successfully dodge “It’s going to get so much worse if you don’t answer my question.”

Laurel sees Michaela’s resolve. She knows when she’s lost a battle. Mostly because she’s come to expect defeat when going up against the other woman. So she plucks the notepad from its forgotten place on the floor. Glancing over it briefly, her dark hair hiding the embarrassment that appears on her face. “Where did you get this?”

“I asked you a question first,” Michaela replies, folding her arms across her chest. She’s not going to budge.

“Really? That’s mature of you,” Laurel admonishes. It doesn’t work, because Michaela still isn’t backing down.

“It’s a piece of paper that features a series of names. More commonly known as a list.” Then she smirks.

And if Michaela wasn’t already fuming, she would be doing so now. Because Laurel really shouldn’t be finding this amusing. Moreover, Michaela hates that she finds the girl’s amusement so damn adorable. “How about instead of trying to be cute, you tell me what the list is for?”

Laurel fixes her with twinkling blue eyes and a heart stopping smile, “You thought that was cute?”

Michaela’s breath catches. She knows she’s in trouble. Changing subjects. “Just read the damn list Laurel.”

“Ah Frank, Asher, Annalise, Wes, Bonnie, Connor, and Michaela.” Laurel finishes sheepishly

“Imagine my surprise when instead of finding something to write on, I find your disgusting ranking of the people in this house. You know, the fact that you wrote it, doesn’t upset me nearly as much as the fact that you ranked me dead last. After the puppy! After Connor for God’s sake!”

Laurel lands a seat on the couch, trying her best to feign annoyance when she really just wants to laugh at Michaela’s antics. “You went through my things so I don’t think I owe you an explanation.”

Michaela moves to sit beside her. Crossing her legs in a way that makes Laurel forget every single thought she’s ever had.

“Well, your tongue was down my throat so I’d say you do,” Michaela responds.

Laurel is tingling all over at this point. Good tingling. The best tingling. Michaela’s amazing legs. Michaela mentioning of their kiss. Of course she would be tingling. Who wouldn’t?

“I…um I wrote this way before the hot basement kissing. And my… my tongue was only down your throat because you decided to push me against a wall.”

This is all fine and well to know, but Michaela needs more. The flies and vinegar act is doing nothing to get her that more so she decides to switch tactics.

Scooting closer to Laurel on the couch, so close that their thighs are brushing, Michaela leans into her. She traces her fingertips up, down, and across Laurel’s forearm. Then she whispers into her ear, “I just figured that since that _hot basement kissing_ , we’d gotten closer. Don’t you want to be close to me Laurel?”

Laurel swallows loudly. How is this fair? Michaela could probably rule the world using these seductive maneuvers. Entire armies at her command. And Laurel would be the first one at the recruiting office. “I want…to be close,” the tremble in her voice, revealing her weakened state to Michaela.

Michaela smiles knowingly, “So tell me about the list.”

That breaks the spell. Laurel suddenly stands on wobbly legs. Moving far… far away from Michaela and all of that damn sexiness. “You know this is blackmail. You’re blackmailing me. And while we’re at it, stop looking at me like that. It’s not nice.”

Michaela joins Laurel on her feet. Her head bowed in apology. “Look Laurel, I’m sorry. Okay? I shouldn’t have do that. I just wanted to know why I was ranked so low. I’ve gone through a fiancée and a hookup buddy in the course of a few months. I guess my ego wasn’t ready to take another blow”

Laurel’s not sure what to do with that statement. How can that even be a thing? In what world would Michaela Pratt’s ego be bruised and fracture? Her insecurity is always unwarranted and mind-boggling. But Laurel knows that trying to comfort Michaela in a vulnerable moment like this would only make the girl run far away. And Laurel doesn’t want that. She meant it when she said she wanted to be close.

“It’s not based on attractiveness. It’s based on the odds of me having sex with that person.”

Michaela doesn’t respond. She just raises an eyebrow.

“What? I needed to get laid and I wanted to know my chances.”

“Connor is gay. Exclusively so. And you thought you had a better chance with a gay guy than me?”

“Yeah, Connor’s a man-whore, but he seems like he’ll try anything once. We have an understanding. It’s plausible. You though… I don’t get. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. And then there’s the fact that you hated for the entire first semester. Of course I didn’t think I had a chance with you. I still don’t think I do. ”

And now it’s Laurel’s turn to hide from the vulnerability in her words. She looks away. She looks towards the heavens, towards hell. She looks in every direction, at everything, but Michaela.

It kind of breaks Michaela’s heart. She can only imagine how Laurel must be feeling. So she decides that Laurel deserves to feel something else. Something better. Michaela thinks she deserves to feel something better too.

She leans closer, softly pressing her lips against Laurel’s. She latches onto the lapels of her blazer, pulling her in until their bodies are touching at every possible point. Smooth hands set out in exploration of dips and curves.

Michaela gently backs away. Her forehead resting against Laurel’s as they both chase after their breath. “You can move me to the top of the list,” Michaela whispers.  And then they’re kissing again. 


	3. The Kitchen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annalise finds Laurel and Michaela in the kitchen.

Michaela’s tongue teases the roof of her mouth.

Laurel knows that it would require the strength of the entire Greek pantheon in order to suppress the whimper that was threatening to be released. And she was never known for her physical prowess. So she’s moaning loudly.

Michaela smirks smugly against her lips. Laurel really shouldn’t give the woman the satisfaction, but she was helpless when it came to her. This was just a fact of life she was coming to accept. They did as much-and no more- as Michaela desired when she deemed it appropriate. 

Unfortunately for Laurel, sex had not yet made its way onto Michaela’s list of appropriate things. And she wasn’t going to pressure her for it either. She was an adult woman, capable of controlling her urges. She was not a hormonal teenage boy. Although, her current situation directly contradicted that statement.

Tucked away in Annalise’s pantry. Lights off. The rest of the gang milling about. Laurel was glued to Michaela. Her mouth slanted over Michaela’s. Never abandoning the press of their lips. Even when something as important as her screaming lungs begged for attention. She silenced them, instead trailing her slender fingers up the expanse of Michaela’s skin that felt like warm silk under her touch. 

Michaela knew the intended destination of those fingers. The thought of their journey's end reduced her to goose pimples and nervous shudders.

The best part of the impromptu pantry make out session was that space was a limited commodity. So Laurel’s body was pulled tightly against Michaela’s.

What wasn’t necessitated by the limited space was Laurel’s jean-clad leg finding a home nestled in between Michaela’s thighs. And lucky for them both, Michaela had decided that the new pencil skirt she purchased would be a perfect match for the blouse and cardigan combination she was rocking.

Rocking. Rocking. Speaking of rocking. Laurel and her leg moves against Michaela. Rocking against her. Michaela has to stop kissing Laurel for a moment. Biting her lip instead before saying a quick prayer for the strength to not let this go too far.

And maybe the signals got crossed. Michaela isn’t sure how exactly these things work. But she knows for sure that something went wrong. Because instead of some godly being descending from the heavens to save her from Laurel’s roaming hands, rocking leg, and burning hot mouth, a she-devil appears.

Annalise yanks the door to the pantry open. The two women almost tumble out, but Laurel is able to keep them balanced.

“Look. I don’t care if you two are screwing. Just don’t do it on my time.” And with that Annalise exits stage right.

Michaela is in slight panic and Laurel just looks amused.

“Annalise thinks that we’re having sex. Our boss, our sovereign, our mutual bane of existence, thinks that we are having sex. In a sexual relationship,” Michaela frowns, stepping from the pantry into the kitchen.

Laurel follows closely. “Hey, you don’t have to look so happy about it,” she jokes while lightly pinching Michaela’s hip.

Michaela pushes the hand away. This isn’t a time for jesting. Or for Laurel’s hands to be on her. No, this was serious. “Please taper your insecurity for one moment and look at the bigger picture.”

Laurel sulks. Maybe the fact that Michaela pushed her hand away stung. Maybe it stung a lot. Because Laurel thought, they were moving past this place. But she was obviously wrong. So she puts some distance between them. Leaning on the countertop, she replies, “I don’t see how it’s a problem.”

Michaela is pacing now. Like each step possibly held the solution to her predicament. “Well it’s not a problem for you! It’s my problem. She was just starting to trust me with the Hapstall case. And now that she thinks I’m gay for you, no way she’s letting me near it.”

Laurel abandons her plan of distance. Instead, she seeks Michaela out. Comforting. Kneading tense shoulders then intertwining their fingers. She waits to speak until Michaela meets her eyes then, “One, you’re reaching. Two, she didn’t put you on the Hapstall case for your client whisperer abilities. She did it because Caleb is attracted to you. Three, the last thirty minutes, plus two other separate, but equally steamy instances, prove you are in fact gay for me.” Laurel finishes with a hard to muster smile.

Michaela’s pulling away. She gives Laurel’s hands a tight squeeze and then she’s walking to the sink. Her back is turned away from Laurel. Her eyes stare straight ahead to the leaf covered back yard. “I’m not…” she trails off in a whisper.

Laurel knew that was coming. She hoped for different, of course, but it was to be expected. Still, it was hard to digest. “You’re not gay. Right. I know. I don’t want you to be. I just …I just want you to be Michaela. And I want you to be comfortable with this. With us. And the fact that you’re freaking out right now lets me know that you aren’t.”

Michaela turns after the conclusion of the sentence. Because Laurel was standing there gorgeous and beautiful, pleading for Michaela to be true to herself. For Michaela to just be herself. And how many people ever wanted something so incredibly simple from her? Everyone. All of them. They always wanted Michaela to be the version of her that they’d crafted in their heads. Aiden, Levi, Annalise. And she played her roles well dammit. Accepting fiancée. Easy target. Loyal law student. But Laurel was none of those people. Laurel wanted none of those things.

And now Michaela was ashamed of her behavior. Her outburst. She needed to fix things with Laurel. She wanted to fix them.

With a head bowed in contrition, Michaela totters back to Laurel. “Stop saying perfect things to me. I don’t deserve them.”

Laurel smiles. “Then stop being so damn perfect. Because it should be known that contrite Michaela is adorable.”

Michaela returns her smile, tugging Laurel closer until they are embracing. “Laurel, tell me what you want to become of this… of us?”

Laurel thinks for a moment. Michaela watches because she loves staring at the furrowing of her dark eyebrows when she is concentrating.  It could be her hobby. “I guess…I want to start kissing you on the really nice Italian furniture my dad bought me. Which is my way of saying I think we should stop making out in the dark corners of Annalise’s house. It’s kind of scary. Annalise’s house, I mean. Not the kissing. The kissing is just scary good. ”

Michaela smiles down at the collar of Laurel’s blouse she’s started to nervously adjust, “Italian furniture? Hmm. You never did tell us exactly how rich you were. But, digressing. What else do you want?”

Laurel grabs the fidgeting hands. Cupping them into her own and placing soft kisses before speaking, “Michaela. None of this matters if you don’t want the same things. So tell me what it is that you want.”

“I think…I’d want a date. An honest-to-god date.” Michaela says in such a way that it’s almost as if she expects Laurel to deny her.

“Okay. I can get behind this. You see, I’m a very good dater.”

Michaela doesn’t respond with words, instead begins kissing Laurel in her excitement. Laurel moves her hand to the nape of Michaela’s neck for support, just as the woman starts pulling away. “Wait. Anything else?” Michaela asks in a rush.

A second or two of dead silence passes and then they both simultaneously scream “SEX!”

Smiling. Happy. Michaela questions, “So does this mean that were girlfriends?” Laurel responds thoughtfully, “No. I think you have to at least go on one official date to earn that title.”

“Laurel. I was wondering if you weren’t doing anything after work would you...”

“Yes. I would. Very much so,” Laurel replies. The words hurried. No space. No pauses. So Michaela laughs and it’s so beautiful. Laurel can’t help but to join in.

“I wasn’t too eager was I? I don’t want to seem like the needy type. I want to make a good first impression.”

“Oh. I’m definitely impressed,” Michaela states before leaning down and kissing Laurel once more just as Asher stumbles into the kitchen. Stopping. Staring. “Whoa! Hot lesbian action in the kitchen.”

Laurel backs away from Michaela in a hurry.

She’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar two times in the past ten minutes. This is unbelievable. On top of that, now she’s worried about Michaela reaction. Yes, they both agreed to dating and non-secretive kissing. But that didn’t mean Michaela would be fine with Asher to knowing about them. She’d just finished flipping out about Annalise finding out. So Laurel had no idea how Michaela would react to Asher. For this reason she thought it best to go the deny, deny, deny route.

“Hey we were just…I mean I was just…” Laurel starts, but can’t finish because Michaela begins speaking.

“Asher, if you don’t leave so that I can finish making out with my soon-to-be girlfriend I think I’ll tell everyone about the thing you do with your …”

Embarrassment fuels the flush that covers is face suddenly.

“What thing?” Laurel asks.

Michaela raises a daring eyebrow.

Asher holds his hands up in defeat. “Okay. Okay. No worries. I’m gone. Just take pictures please.”

He backs out of the room. Michaela rolls her eyes before turning back to Laurel and seductively invading her personal space.

Laurel allows the invasion. Positioning her hands against to Michaela’s waist. “Soon-to-be-girlfriend? Very creative,” Laurel jokes.

“Shut up,” Michaela responds in a way that is not at all joking, but instead very sexy before she’s pulling Laurel into another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and support. This is such a great paring, so I love writing about them when I have the chance.


	4. Thanksgiving Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel takes Michaela home for Thanksgiving.

Michaela was paying no attention to Laurel as she unpacked her luggage. Ignoring. Snubbing. No lingering looks. No sizzling kisses. No soft caresses. No. She’d reasoned that this was the most effective method to ensure that a lesson was learned. And dammit, Laurel Castillo needed to learn a lesson.

Which is probably not fair to say, because up until this point Laurel had been traveling the road to perfection. Now, though, she was a bad soon-to-be girlfriend who erroneously believed that taking your potential partner home for Thanksgiving constituted as an appropriate first date.

So instead of giggles and sweet whispers, silence fills up the space around them.

Laurel wants to speak. She wants to know what Michaela thinks of her childhood bedroom, in which they currently stand. She wants to know if Michaela has ever had Thanksgiving tamales. Or what her favorite part of the holiday was. Laurel wants to know these things. But she doesn’t ask them. She doesn’t open her mouth. Or break the silence. It’s up to Michaela to do that.

Michaela is just getting used to the silence when a sharply dressed butler knocks on the bedroom door, entering to announce that dinner will be ready shortly. After a slight bowing of his head he exits the room.

An expensive and polite private wait staff. A compound comprised of modernly designed buildings. Two Olympic sized pools. And Laurel’s ‘childhood’ bedroom which was bigger than Michaela’s entire apartment. The Castillo’s definitely had money. Lots of it. She wonders how they came by. She wonders what Laurel’s dad did for a living.

Due to her curiosity, Michaela determined that the whole ignoring Laurel thing was going to have to take a backseat. Because she’s never been very good at suppressing her curious nature.

“Is your dad Tony Soprano?” Michaela asks, leaving her suitcase and walking over to Laurel.

Laurel doesn’t turn around she keeps her back to Michaela, “He’s Mexican not Italian. And I think it should kind of bother me that the first time you’ve spoken me in hours was to ask if my father was the leader of a criminal organization.”

“Well is he?” Michaela questions.

“I don’t want to talk about my father. I want to know what I did to earn the cold shoulder,” Laurel says finally turning to face Michaela.

Michaela doesn’t answer. She starts to turn, but Laurel catches her arm. She won’t let Michaela run from her. Not now. “Michaela talk to me. Please. If I did something to upset you then you need to tell me so that I won’t do it again. Listen, neither of us have a great track record when it comes to relationships. I’m just hoping that this…what we have could be different.”

Laurel finishes speaking. Michaela notices the sad, but hopeful look in those bright blue eyes. And a slight pout that she wants to kiss away but knows she can’t as they are in Laurel’s father’s house and that is not how a great first impression is made.

“I’m nervous. Okay. I’m nervous,” she finally fesses up.

“Why?”

“Because you are right. We are different. We are. And here I am meeting your family. I’ve never met a girl’s family before. Well obviously I have, but not in this sense. So I’m nervous. I want them to like me. I want them approve. I want them to see that I can make you happy. But if they don’t. If they don’t see those things. I don’t know what that will mean for us.”

Laurel is quiet for a long while. Michaela is worried. If the quietness between them was obvious before, it’s deafening now. If this is how it feels to be on the receiving end of silence, she thinks it’s best to retire the cold shoulder treatment. Because this sucks. Majorly. And there is nothing she can do, but take it. So she does. She stands there. In the silence, while Laurel says nothing.

“It’ll mean that if they want to see me at Christmas, they are going to have to make an effort because you are a part of my life now.”

Michaela wants to squeal from happiness. The giddiness she feels at hearing Laurel’s words. No one has ever said something like that to her and meant it. But the thing is, she knows Laurel meant it. It’s who she is, it’s who she’s been. In the midst of her cocoon of contentment, a dark cloud of caution emerges. “Laurel. Normal people don’t do this. They don’t have a first date on a major holiday in another city with their entire family present.”

“We’re not normal. Besides, if I didn’t drag you down here you would have spent the entire break alone or worse with Annalise. And I definitely didn’t want that.”

“No?” Michaela says in a tone that lets Laurel know that the cold shoulder has been lifted and the mood has been lighten.

So Laurel pulls her into an embrace. Wrapping her arms around Michaela’s waist. “No. I really like having you around. I especially like having you this close to an actual bed.” Laurel begins placing languid kisses against Michaela’s neck.

It all feels so incredible that Michaela gives in, moving her hair so that more of her throat is exposed to Laurel’s kisses. Her eyes are lolling. Her neck is so sensitive. And Laurel is so attentive. Then Laurel’s tongue darts out, sliding across her skin

Michaela eyes shoot open. “Wait. No. We are not having our first time in your parent’s house,” her voice is kind of breathless, but it’s firm.

 “Alright. Fine. But can we at least make out until it’s time for you to go meet the in-laws?”

Michaela laughs. Her heart beat quickens just thinking about being married to Laurel. So she smiles and leans down to kiss her.

They kiss for a very long time. Until it’s time to walk down for dinner. When they leave the room. They are holding hands. Tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey.Thanks for the comments and the kudos. I really appreciate them. A lot. This was supposed to be posted on Thanksgiving, so it's a little late, but I hope you all still enjoy it. Happy holidays.


End file.
